


All Fired Up

by projectghoulma



Series: Explosive Tendencies [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Love Bites, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream, dfab!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectghoulma/pseuds/projectghoulma
Summary: Things get explosive when you dream about a fellow bomb enthusiast.





	All Fired Up

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaa it's been such a long time since I've written or uploaded anything mostly because of work and I just haven't had the time or motivation to write during my downtime since a lot of stuff has been happening all at once as well as the holidays. But fortunately, this was mostly written and finished aside from the very end which I might extend into a part 2 at some point in time. Sorry if you expected an update for Inkful, that will probably be on hiatus for a while.

It wasn't an odd thing for some of the others to find you in Junkrat's workshop, working on your own exploding contraptions, as you took to holing yourself up inside whenever the junker was away on missions. It was odd, however, to find both of you hunkered inside and leaning over your own respective work areas. While the workshop was available for everyone to use, it had almost been exclusively used by either of the junkers, Junkrat or Roadhog, due to the messes or unfinished projects the two - Junkrat - left behind a lot of the time. It wasn't until you had joined Overwatch and, upon needing the space, took to using the already soot-filled room and occupied one of the many desks that had been left untouched save for spare parts and scorch marks.

The two of you usually worked in relative silence, the only exceptions when either of you talked to yourself or one of your contraptions decided to explode due to something that had gone wrong. Roadhog came in every once in a while, murmuring things to his companion and leaving snacks for him and, after he recognized your presence on multiple occasions, began to leave you small snacks as well.

You had been working by yourself in the workshop, focused intensely on the bomb you were currently wiring together and jumped when you felt a heavy hand on your upper back and the pressure of someone leaning over your shoulder.

"Whatcha workin' on mate?" Junkrat asked, the smell of gunpowder and soot overwhelming your senses.

"Bomb." You murmured, leaning back to look at him over your shoulder. You felt your face flush as you met his eyes for probably the first time, his face incredibly close to yours as he leaned over your body easily due to his height and your seated posture.

The blonde nodded, causing tiny bits of singed hair to fall into your vision from the way the tips of his hair seemed to ember slowly. He didn't seem to be worried about it, though, and compared to your shaved head you wondered if he kept his hair longer for any particular reason due to obsessions. Soot from his body seemed to rub against you and vice versa, ash having been rubbed against his chest from your shoulders.

"What kinda bomb?" He continued, tilting his head slightly to lean more on you and over your workspace. "Explodey ones?"

You hummed, enjoying the warmth his body seemed to radiate while pressed against your back and shoulder as he kept his gaze focused on your hands and the tiny ball you were working on. "Mhm, tryin' to put a delay on it for an upcoming mission."

Junkrat let out a quiet, "Ooh," before settling himself against your back.

You continued to work like that for a little bit longer, occasionally wiping the grease and oil from the mechanism on your jeans or tank top, and eventually got used to the added weight against you. It was relatively silent aside from your tinkering and the minimal curses you let out when your fingers slipped and you had to redo something. Junkrat remained silent behind you, content in simply watching you work. It wasn't until after what had felt like the fifth time your fingers slipped and you accidentally jammed one of your fingers against a sharpened bit of wire that he moved to halt your hands from continuing your work.

"You okay, sheila?" he asked, voice gruff as his hands pried the small bomb and your tools out of your hands so he could look at your injury a bit closer. "Gotta be more careful there."

You hissed slightly at the gentle throb in your fingertip, the grease of your contraption causing it to sting as you tried to take comfort in the way Junkrat's fingers held firmly onto yours.

"Sorry," he let out a soft laugh as he held your hand closer to his face to inspect it, brows furrowed slightly. "Jus' needs a good wash an' yer good, mate."

You nodded, ready to get up out of your seat to clean your hands in one of the sinks at the other end of the room before you felt Junkrat lean into your back and stick your injured finger into his mouth. You froze immediately as you felt the flat of his tongue run over your finger. After a moment, he released your hand with a gentle pop and grinned to himself.

"There ya go, sheila," he said, voice gruff in your ear. "Good as new."

You felt your face flush and your neck heat up as he settled his head on your shoulder, humming softly to himself as you took a moment to steady your breathing. What had that been about? Sure, the two of you had talked a handful of times and you had given more than a few hints that you were interested in the junker but you had been more than sure he didn't feel the same.

"You alright there, sheila?" Junkrat asked, light amusement in his voice. "Ya seem a li'l frozen."

"'M fine," you murmured, looking at him from the corner of your eye. "Just wasn't expectin' that."

He laughed and pushed away from you, the heavy clink of his prosthetic leg sounding behind you as he moved about. "Sorry, sheila, didn't mean to startle ya."

You waved his words away, feeling the back of your neck heat up from his close proximity. "'S fine, don't worry about it."

Junkrat moved his hands to your waist as he settled his chin on your shoulder. You felt shivers go through your spine as his hands rubbed along the skin at your hips, his thumbs rubbing up beneath your tank top and leaving small swipes of soot and grease along your skin. The blonde hummed, the rumble in his chest causing another wave to go through you and begin to pool in your abdomen.

You continued to work, vision hazy and fingers slow to move as you focused intently on the contrast between his metal prosthetic and the calloused flesh of both of his hands and how gentle he was in trailing them over your skin. Your breathing stuttered as you let out a cooling exhale, your flesh feeling hypersensitive and warm all of a sudden as the junker hummed to himself.

"You doin' okay, mate?" he asked, cocky grin evident in his words as he moved his fingers along the expanse of your stomach and felt your breathing hitch. "Yer seeming a bit distracted."

"'M fine," you said, internally cringing at how breathy and soft your voice sounded. "J-junk--"

"Jamison," the blonde murmured against your ear, breath hot along the back of your neck. "Name's Jamison."

"Jamison," you echoed, voice breathy as he continued to gently stroke along your hips and stomach. "What're ya doin'?"

"Noticed the way ya look at me," he said and gently grazed his teeth along the shell of your ear. "How ya been flirtin' with me."

You nodded, instinctively moving a hand to the one on your stomach. Jamison froze against your back, swiping his tongue along his upper lip as he tried to figure out whether you wanted him to stop or not. He continued to rub his thumb along your skin before deciding to nuzzle his face between the junction of your shoulder and neck and giving the space an experimental lick.

"Jamison," you murmured, letting out a low whine as he bit into the skin of your neck. This was too good to be true, something straight out of your dreams to have your long-time crush holding you like this, torturing you like this. "Jamie, please."

He hummed against your skin, the vibrations in his chest causing your cheeks to flush and arousal to pool in your abdomen. Jamison ran his mechanical hand up underneath your tank top towards your breasts, the pads of his fingers running across your bra-less skin. He smirked, nipping harshly at the exposed skin on your neck and shoulder as he pulled at one of your nipples, his flesh hand dipping down lower to edge against the waistband of your shorts.

You let out a breathy whine, your back arching against him to push your chest against his probing hand at the feel of his other hand slipping beneath your waistband to cup your sex over your underwear. He hummed again and pushed his fingers against you, rubbing harshly over your clit and forcing a ragged moan to escape from your lips.

"Jamie please," you whined, bucking your hips against his hand for a semblance of stimulation as he pushed against your wet sex. "Please--"

Your begging was cut short as his fingers entered you, forcing a low groan out of you as his thumb circled over your clit, and stroked your slick insides as he thrust two of his fingers in and out of you feverishly. Jamison's mechanical hand was kneading your breast, poking and tweaking your nipple as he left bite marks of varying intensity along your skin. He continued to finger you, conducting moans and whines out of you as the pressure in your center started to build. You arched your back, bucking your hips against his hand as he continued to work your clit with his thumb. You were close, you could feel it as he bit the shell of your ear, your moans increasing in volume and pitch. So close.

"C'mon sheila," he voiced in your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. "Come for me."

As soon as his words registered in your mind, you cried out as you felt your release cover his hand. It was a moment before you came back to your senses, your features flushed and your skin clammy as you started awake at the sound of the door closing. You looked around the room, eyes wide as Junkrat entered the stuffy workshop. He stopped momentarily when he noticed you and was made silent at the wildly frightened look you were giving him.

"O-oi," he said suddenly, his entire body tense as he took a couple of tentative steps towards you. "You alright there, mate? Look like you've seen a ghost."

You shook your heard, turning your attention back to the tiny bomb you had been working on before apparently falling asleep. The sheen of sweat on your neck caused goosebumps as you continued to feel Jamison's bewildered stare in your direction. Swallowing down the thick lump in your throat you got down from your stool and stood on shaky legs, feeling the intense slick between your legs as you moved.

"'M fine," you said with wavering confidence, your thoughts racing wildly while trying to properly analyze the painfully lewd sex dream you just had about your fellow bomb enthusiast. "Just uh, had a bad dream."

Right, the only bad thing about that dream was that you had woken up from it.

"Oh?" he asked, instantly curious. "Should be more careful while nappin' in here, sheila."

You nodded, embarrassment running through your entire body as you realized the entirety of your inner thighs were slick from your release. Bad day to wear some of the standard issued gym shorts that barely met the top of your thighs while working.

"Ya done in here, sheila?"

Again you nodded, hoping he wouldn't notice your awkward stride or body language in an attempt to hide how fired up your body was. It felt like you were burning, between the ache at your core and the fire along your neck you needed something to cool off with as fast as possible.

You turned on your feet, ready to put back the tools you had been using, and felt your breath leave your lungs when you ran straight into the blonde junker. You gasped, tripping over your foot as you stumbled back before feeling the warmth of his hands grab around your waist to keep you steady. He stared into your eyes, his gaze burning with something you didn't fully recognize from when he usually made eye contact with you, and you struggled to keep your breathing as regular as possible and the urge to rub your thighs together at the thought of your dream you had just moments before.

"Whoa there, mate," he said, giving you a sly grin. "Careful or ya might hurt yer self."

You let out a shaky laugh, ignoring the feel of your hands pressed firmly onto his muscled chest, and made no attempt to move for fear of causing too much friction between your legs or letting out any embarrassing noises. Junkrat hummed in amusement, his amber gaze twinkling with appreciation as he took in your form mere inches from him - taking notice of the distinct lack of bra beneath your tank top.

He murmured your name under his breath and the familiar smell of gunpowder and soot was finally registering in your senses, causing a shaky sigh to escape your lips as he leaned closer.

"J-Jamie," you managed, swallowing the nervous bundle that was forming in your throat. "I-I--"

You let out an undignified squeak when the door to the workshop opened a second time and heard the gentle rumble of Roadhog's voice, garbled behind his gas mask. Junkrat gave his close companion a lopsided grin when he recognized who it was, momentarily forgetting how close the two of you just were.

"Aye, Roadie! Ya finished with yer training already?" The blonde exclaimed, focusing on his friend while you sneakily tried to inch your way out of the room.

It felt like Roadhog gave you a slight nod of greeting as you hurriedly tried to rush out, still preoccupied with how warm and clammy you felt. You gave him a small smile in return, your gaze quickly flicking over to Junkrat and he started to go on about some plans he wanted to use to upgrade his rip-tire.

You took the immediate distraction from the blonde junker and rushed to your quarters, ignoring the way your shorts seemed to stick to you like a second skin and how your skin prickled from the cool air in the hallways. Letting out a sigh of relief, you were thankful that most of the remaining Overwatch agents in headquarters were either training or entertaining themselves with recreation in one of the many lounge rooms used for relaxation. Your rushed walk to your quarters went undisturbed and you arrived sooner than you expected considering it was on the other side of the base and up two floors.

It'd take more than a cold shower to calm you down.


End file.
